Orion
by Heavens-Angel96
Summary: "It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity"-Einstein. In the future, humans dominate over robots, AI and other minorities. As a deadly virus spreads rapidly, causing war among states, a young girl soon realizes that the life she was living was a lie, and must choose which side she is on and fight for her life. Based on the album Orion by she.


**Finally had the time and patience to write again! Especially after the stressful few weeks I've had. I know that Coke or Pepsi was supposed to be my first songfic, but I have been holding on to it for plot changes.**

**Yes, I know. Slacking.**

**So, this is based off of the album Orion by she (yes, that is the actual band name. Shemusic is also the same person). His music leaves a lot to the imagination, often telling a story. I thought that this was a great way to experiment with genres, so I'm going to try my hand at science fiction. It's definitely going to be interesting! I highly recommend looking up the songs on YouTube and listening to them, not only for setting the mood, but to get into my thought process. If you listen and think of something different, then I'd love to hear it! :)**

**So, sit back, relax, and enjoy!**

**Orion**

**Prologue**

"_Simon, I'm afraid I have something very terrible to tell you."_

Simon ran home as fast as he could, his breath clouding as he rushed against the cold winter winds. His nose felt frosty and he could feel his lips chap at the 25 mile winds, but he didn't care.

He had to make it home. He needed to see if she was okay.

_Simon looked up to see a man standing over him in the soft snow. He could see the grave look on the man's face, but he smiled anyway, he was so elated. "Oh, hey, Paul. What's up? Are you staying for Christmas dinner? Don't tell me that Brittany tried to cook at our house again."_

Simon cradled the jar containing the small specimen in his hands: a flower. A delicate, red flower with white stamens and speckles on it. It glowed beautifully in the setting sun. It was a miracle that it was still alive in the less-than-30-degree weather, in such an isolated part of the forest. He had wanted to show it to her, so they could look at such a special flower together, as a team, as friends…or more than friends.

Now he might never see her again.

"_N…no, Simon," Paul said with a strangely solemn quietness in his voice. "You…you need to get home right away. Dave is on his way home right now."_

"_He's coming home on time this year?" Simon asked, his eyes widening. _

Dave, his father and struggling musician, had a habit of not arriving on time for Christmas dinner. He always was busy writing songs or finishing up a project at the studio, never stopping to breathe. Of course, Simon always liked when Dave could see his latest project, but he never arrived in time to see it on the first test run.

Simon's heart dropped as he nearly slipped on a patch of ice. Had he gotten caught up in it, too?

Was he also dead?

"_Not exactly," Paul muttered. "He…he got off early."_

_Simon finished placing the roots of the flower in the jar, careful not to rip the delicate petals. "Oh. That's great, though. Well, what is it, then? Did you want to tell me something?"_

Simon's heart beat faster as he turned the corner and jumped the fence that separated the alleyway from his block, two familiar landmarks. As he got closer, he could see orange and yellow several houses down. It looked so tiny, so unreal. His heart caught in his throat. _Please don't be it, please don't be it, please don't be it…_he begged and pleaded as he got closer toward his house.

When he slowed to a stop near several fire trucks, all that was left of his house was a mess of charred coals and burning embers.

"_Your house is on fire. And the doors are locked from the outside. I don't think anyone that was in there survived."_

* * *

He was right. No one had.

As soon as Simon thought he had hope, as soon as he had a lead, he saw something that definitely belonged to his family through the sizzling embers. He thought he could handle it when he saw a charred piece of Theodore's food-stained apron, but he couldn't. He thought that he could stop hurting after he found a rough patch of Alvin's cap, but his heart still ached. Never again would he stop Alvin's crazy schemes or argue with him whenever he was wrong or scream his name whenever he didn't do whatever he was supposed to do. Never again would his taste buds experience Theodore's amazing cooking or explain to him what Alvin was doing or help him with his homework. He had the sudden urge to throw up. He didn't want to deal with it all. He was only twelve, after all.

And while he observed Alvin's cap, he saw it.

Simon started to feel the tears run down her face. He felt his heart catch in his throat. He didn't want to go to it, but he felt his legs propel him forward. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. The only thing that had really given him any hope at all was gone, taken away from him.

She had given him so much hope, so much desperate need for someone, anyone, to be alive.

And now, as the purple hair ribbon flowed in the closed screen door, all hope that he had that she was still alive was immediately extinguished.

Simon fell to his knees, ignoring the broken glass that was on the melted hardwood floor, and cried. He didn't just cry in pain, or for her, but for her sisters as well; they were his friends, his allies, his biggest rivals. He cried for his brothers, who never got to see another Christmas again, or get another present. Theodore had gotten that expensive mixer he always saw in the window of that bakery shop; and Alvin had finally received that new cherry-red electric guitar that he had painstakingly saved all of his money for. Simon would never get to hear the never-ending arguments between Alvin and Brittany, or smell or taste the delicacies that Eleanor and Theodore concocted in the kitchen.

Or witness the elated look on Jeanette's face when she saw the flower or her present: a beautiful heart-shaped silver sterling necklace that had the letters J&S carved into the back of it in elaborate cursive.

Simon broke down again after imagining the beautiful shyness on her face and the quiet but grateful _thank you_ that would come from her lips. His tears mixed with the blood on the ground and the embers scattered everywhere. He would never get to see her beautiful face ever again…

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to find his guardian, unharmed.

Dave's face was red and puffy and streaked with tears. His thumb softly circled the red material of Alvin's cap, and then softly stroked his now-only son's head. "Come on, Simon. Let's go."

Simon could sense that he wanted to say _home_.

Home. What was that word now? It definitely wasn't this place, and it definitely wasn't where they were going now.

So…where—and what— was it now?

* * *

The funeral was long and rough for everyone. Hundreds of people came to give their respects, and thousands more viewed the ceremony from their television sets. Paul, Dave's closest friend and a well-respected biologist, held a handkerchief close as he viewed the ceremony. Simon and Dave couldn't stop crying, and they had to be led off stage every time they tried to give their eulogies. Several close relatives kept on saying the same thing over and over, bellowing that it was "such a travesty" and "whoever did such a thing shall not go unpunished" and, Simon's all-time favorite, "may the souls of those poor children rest in Heaven."

All Simon wanted to rest was his head on top of a comfy pillow, since they were now staying with Paul in his extremely messy apartment. Simon thought the dirtiness scale only rose to Alvin levels—now Paul has topped those levels.

Once the ceremony was over, the two men and the small, lonely Chipmunk were sitting on the steps of the funeral home, Paul and Dave having a solemn conversation and Simon barely listening to a word of it. He was going to tune them out with his headphones when he felt a tap on his shoulders. "Excuse me."

Simon turned around to find a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a gray suit and a blue tie. "Can I help you?"

Paul looked over Dave's shoulder and widened his dark blue eyes. "Professor Gregory? What are you doing here?"

Professor Gregory looked over his glasses at the three, glazing in slight contempt at Dave's unshaven face and messy hair. "I was concerned when you did not show up today to finish your research, Paul. You have a busy schedule ahead of you. You have to present your ideas to the board by Friday if you want to get recommended for a grant for your research." He glanced at Dave and Simon. "I'm terribly sorry for your loss. My daughters used to love listening to your music."

They both mumbled thanks.

"I-I was going to finish my research after we were done here," he said, running his hands through his blonde hair. "I had been so busy trying to go through the funeral plans…"

"Still, that's no excuse for slacking on your duties," the Professor reprimanded. "Just because I'm giving you time to work on your little project, it does not mean that you have all the time in the world. You need to prioritize."

"Don't you think I'm doing that?" Paul raised his voice. "And besides, you recommended that I do the research for your stupid project. It's all going to go under your name anyway!"

The Professor's face grew outraged. "Well, then, maybe, I should take away all of the funding for it, then!"

"I'm working as fast as I can!" Paul was yelling now. "I'm just missing something…something very important…" he trailed off, as if it were something that depressed him even more than the untimely deaths of five chipmunks.

The Professor scoffed. "Well, then, you had better figure it out by Friday, or else you can consider yourself cut from my team of scientists."

Paul balled up his fists and stepped closer to the Professor, his eyes menacing. "Listen here, you son of a—"

"Whoa, whoa!" Dave cut him off, shooting a side glance. "Let's not forget that I still have a child with us."

As soon as he said that, the fight fell, and everyone seemed silent, but the mood still hung tensely over the two scientists.

All the while, Simon's mind calculated. He had seen the blueprints for Paul's work; a project that he called the Artificial Life Project. He had not read into all of the details, but the gist seemed to be exactly what the namesake implied: to create life other than the human race. He didn't know whether that meant robots or aliens, but it seemed pretty interesting. And the flower…Simon had devoted his life to that flower ever since the person he had wanted to study it with most was gone, and had found that its sweet nectar seemed to be the perfect fuel for a small fungi that he had used it on, it growing from a tiny mushroom no larger than the size of a thumb to something that covered an entire wall with mold.

If it could multiply that fast, then surely it could, say, multiply cells, repair skin tissues, replenish the moisture in eyes….

Maybe even create the perfect human…or chipmunk…

"I think I can help you," Simon said slowly, testing out his voice, which came out cracked and broken because he had been crying so much.

All three adults looked at the Chipmunk, surprised that he could talk after the rough times he had gone through in the past week alone.

"Y…your research…" he wished he sounded much more confident than this. "I…it's on creating life other than our own, right…?"

Paul nodded carefully, as if he was going to break down again.

"My…my plant…can multiply cells very quickly with its nectar. Do…do you think that that helps anything…?"

Paul considered it. "Well, I have needed a catalyst for reproducing cell growth…"

The Professor laughed. "Ha! Are you really this desperate to put the fate of your research in the hands of this weeping little boy?"

A stony look crossed Dave's face as he put a protective hand on his son's shoulder. "Do not underestimate my son."

Paul nodded at Simon. "I agree, sir, he is very smart for his age. He knows a lot about chemistry and physics."

Even though Simon's throat was dry and hoarse, he still managed to choke out in a semi-steady voice, "I am not exactly a normal person, Professor."

"Still, that can't be right. How does a ten-year-old—"

"Twelve," Dave corrected icily.

"—_Twelve_-year-old chipmunk even know about the multiplications of cells at such a meticulous rate without the possibilities of them getting out of control?"

Simon resisted the urged to roll his eyes. "Controlled experiments, sir." He had to bite his tongue to keep from adding the _duh_ tone in his voice.

The Professor still harrumphed. "You're still not a true scientist. For all I know, you could be using that nectar to multiply the amount of meth in an underground lair somewhere."

"Sir!" Paul cried in shock.

Simon's eyes glowered. He resisted the urge to scratch his face.

Dave nearly beat him to it. He stepped forward to grab the Professor by his tie. "Say that again, and I will choke you with this goddamned tie!" he growled, his amber eyes flicking angrily.

Before the fight could escalate any quicker, Simon pulled out a photo of his plant. "Is this what you wanted to see? It's nothing much, really, just a little plant that I found in the woo—"

The Professor gasped. "Is this the rare hibiscus alba rubrum?"

Simon looked at him confused. "Um…I guess…?"

The Professor pointed at the picture. "This flower is found only in the remote regions of East Asia, Cambodia and parts of California! To stumble on one of these is very fortunate!"

Simon lightened a bit. "R…really?"

"Yes, really!" the Professor nodded and looked very animated. "Students of mine have been killed because this flower has healed so many wounds and saved the lives of several people. It is very precious to those areas and it is worth billions of dollars to use as a test material."

Simon's eyes widened. So there was a chance after all…

"Paul!" he turned to the blond. "I will give you a raise on your paycheck and a promotion if you can bring this flower to me. I'll even fund your research for you, even if the board rejects the project."

"R…really?!" Paul looked elated. "Th-thank you, sir! You won't regret it!"

"And for you, my dear boy, you and your father will be paid much money if this project goes on the market! You'll be able to buy yourself several new houses with the money."

Dave and Simon glanced at each other. Was this truly happening? Did they go from filing for bankruptcy to becoming rich in just a week of grief and heartache? Were they finally going to get out of this hellhole and start actually moving on forward?

But, there was one more question Simon had to ask, though… "Um, Professor, can this nectar possibly…create a new life as well?"

The Professor was silent for a while. Then he said, "There are two things that we cannot count on: that's making a life and determining when we die. If we did all of those things, then would we truly be human? Wouldn't our lives just be planned out for us? If we can create a life, wouldn't that be playing God? If we are successful, then we can control how the world lives and dies. If not, then we just put everything in God's hands. You want to bring back your friends, and I understand that, but there is a point in which we cannot play God anymore. So, all I can say to that is…I don't really know. But we'll figure it out together." He held out a slightly wrinkled hand. "Deal?"

Everything that flashed through Simon's mind up to this point—the good times with his dear family and friends, the fire that destroyed everything he loved, the new opportunity that was being given to him now. He was being given an opportunity to play God…

But…would Jeanette think that it was good?

Without any further hesitation, Simon stuck his small hand into the human's bigger one. "Deal."

The Professor gave the Chipmunk a grin. "Excellent."

**So, what do you think? Love it? Hate it? It's only just beginning...**

**REVIEW!**


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